


i'm asking you ('cause you know about these things)

by emkat97



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, a lot of them are gay, i wish i could put more things in these tags but SPOILERS, there's maybe two lines worth of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emkat97/pseuds/emkat97
Summary: Five times Debbie Ocean and Lou Miller's relationship taught other members of Debbie's crew a little something about love.And one time Tammy was the one with the expert advice.





	i'm asking you ('cause you know about these things)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thatgirlwiththatpen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatgirlwiththatpen/gifts).



> For thatgirlwiththatpen (princessctiva on Tumblr!) for the gift exchange! Hope you enjoy, my dear!
> 
> A few things:
> 
> -this is really long???? why????? how?????? why am i like this?????  
> -everyone is most likely extremely OOC. whoops.  
> -the Daphne section was almost responsible for a rating change. very mild smut lies within (mainly just dialogue)  
> -TW: very brief mentions of suicide and rape  
> -Nine's girlfriend Michelle can previously be seen in my fic "footprint(s)", so if you wanna check that out, go right ahead!
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated and adored. Love you, you perfect lil fandom you <3

“So...are you always this disgustingly adorable or is this like, a new thing?”

 

“Shh. She’s asleep.”

 

Rose swatted Daphne’s arm as Lou shook her head. Daphne’s question would go unanswered as the rest of the women glanced at the couch, most of the wine bottles empty and _The Bachelor_ being ignored on the flat screen.

 

Deborah Ocean’s face was buried in the crook of Lou’s neck and her arms were splayed around her upper body in a gentle, awkward embrace. She would later deny it, but she was snoring.

 

Lou was absentmindedly running her fingers along the length of Debbie’s arm, making every effort not to move and stir her from her nap. Debbie sleeping like this – Debbie sleeping _at all_ – was a cause for celebration, and none of the members of her crew wanted to be the one to ruin that. Even Constance made a valiant effort to avoid the squeaky floorboards when she got up to grab another beer.

 

“We can head out if you’d like,” Tammy whispered from her spot on the floor, Nine-Ball agreeing with a nod of her head and a quick inhale, before passing the blunt back to Constance.

 

“It’s fine. I’m sure she’ll be up in a few minutes. She’s not built for napping.”

 

Amita smiled as she rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “You two are so precious, I swear.”

 

Lou rolled her eyes. “Stop.”

 

“No, seriously. What’s it like being the cutest lesbians in New York?” Constance took a swig of Jack Daniels. “Enlighten us, yo.”

 

Lou flinched as the top of Debbie’s head bumped her jaw and Debbie’s hand fell to rest on Lou’s thigh. “We’re nothing special, guys. Just a couple.”

 

Knowing looks were shared amongst the other six women in the living room because they all knew without a singular doubt that that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

 

*

 

“Can I see it with the shoes?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Rose held a pin between her lips as Debbie slid into her five-inch, Jimmy Choo sandals, the champagne sparkle contrasting nicely with the sleek, form-fitting black jumpsuit she was wearing.

 

“Ah, I see. Just need to take the hem up a few inches in the back here and you should be good as gold.”

 

“Nice. Thanks again for this, Rose.”

 

“Of course, love. It is what I do, after all.”

 

Debbie smiled. “Very true.”

 

As Rose mumbled to herself and started putting a few pins in one of the legs of the jumpsuit, Debbie glanced towards the couch at what was left of the pile of clothes. Save for a few more dresses, Rose was almost done tailoring. During yet another sleepless night, Debbie had gone on an Amazon shopping spree and was quickly reminded why she preferred to shop in-store (when she chose to pay, that is). Poor Rose had been stuck at the loft for the past three hours trying to ensure that every item fit Debbie the way it was supposed to.

 

“So what’s the occasion?”

 

“Hmm? Oh. Lou’s taking me out tonight. Dinner and a show.”

 

“How lovely! What are you seeing?”

 

“ _Kinky Boots._ ”

 

“Oh! You’ll love it.”

 

“Lou keeps raving. We’ll see. I’m trying to catch up on things I missed when I was...” Debbie trailed off and Rose glanced upward just in time to see the distant look wash over Debbie’s face. She shook it off as quickly as it had appeared. “Well. You know.”

 

“Yes.” Rose patted Debbie’s knee. “You look beautiful.”

 

“Thanks, Rose.”

 

“Wait!” Both Debbie and Rose turned as Lou hurried down the stairs, limping just a little as she continued towel drying her hair as she moved. She tossed a leather jacket onto the pile.

 

“Baby, you need to take it easy with your ankle...”

 

“It’s feeling better.”

 

“Still. You shouldn’t be putting that much weight on it.”

 

“Yeah, it’s okay!” Lou called over her shoulder, already bounding back up the stairs.

 

Debbie huffed as soon as she was out of earshot. Lou had been thrown from her bike four days prior, hence the limping and the tear in her favorite leather jacket. Debbie shook her head. “She’s going to get herself killed if she’s not careful.”

 

“Don’t think like that, dear.”

 

“I can’t help it,” Debbie mumbled. “I worry about her.”

 

“You just worry because you love her.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“What’s that like?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Love. Loving her. What’s it like?” At this point, Rose had stopped tending to Debbie’s jumpsuit and was instead rearranging the pins on her pincushion into the shape of a star. Debbie blinked.

 

“What do you mean, Rose?”

 

“I don’t know, dear,” Rose replied with a sigh. “You seem to truly cherish each other. I was curious as to what it felt like.”

 

“It feels...well, you _know_ what it feels like! It’s love! You’ve been in love before.”

 

Rose offered Debbie a little smile.

 

“Rose. You’ve _never_ been in love?”

 

“Can’t say I have, dear.”

 

Debbie was sputtering. “But...but...that’s impossible! That’s just...that’s unreal. No. I don’t accept that. You’ve got to be forgetting about someone. You never forget your first love.”

 

“I did date a boy when I was fourteen.”

 

“See! There you go.”

 

“But I didn’t feel much for him. Haven’t been in a relationship since then. And I’m sure whatever I had with him is nothing compared to what the two of you have.”

 

“Rose, _what?_ ”

 

Rose pulled out a pin, replaced it with another. “I spent a lot of time thinking that I _should_ want to be in a romantic relationship with one fellow or lady or another, but never thinking if I actually _did_ want it.”

 

Debbie, typically cool under pressure, was feeling utterly overwhelmed by this revelation from her quiet, flustered friend. “I’m...sorry. I really don’t understand.”

 

“I’m aromantic, I believe? Is that the term the youths use?”

 

Lou made her way back down the stairs, sliding a light pink blazer over her shoulders, taken aback ever so slightly by Debbie’s exclamation of “what the fuck does _that_ mean?!”

 

“Should I even ask what’s going on?” Lou raised an eyebrow as she sunk down to the floor next to Rose, whose lower lip was quivering. “What did you do?”

 

“Did you know she’s...what’s the word again?”

 

“Aromantic,” Rose muttered.

 

“Oh! Yes. Yes, I did.”

 

Debbie’s eyes widened. “And you didn’t _tell me_?!”

 

Lou scoffed. “First of all, it’s not my place to talk about anyone’s sexual or romantic orientation if it’s not my own. And second, you’re being extremely insensitive, honey. Even for you.”

 

“I – _hey!_ ”

 

“All it means is that she experiences very little romantic attraction to others. Or none at all.”

 

Debbie rolled her eyes at her walking dictionary of a girlfriend. “Yeah, thanks, I think I’ve gathered that by now.”

 

“If I’d known it would upset you this much, I wouldn’t have asked my question.” Rose looked devastated.

 

“What question?”

 

Debbie sighed. “She wanted to know what it feels like. You and me.”

 

“Oh! Well, I can answer that,” Lou said with a smile. Rose smiled in return. Debbie noticed that Lou had been twirling one of Rose’s long, frizzy curls between her fingers. There was an intimacy and care to their friendship that Debbie almost envied; Rose would never dare to be that close to Deb.

 

“Loving Deborah Ocean is like waking up to a fresh batch of cookies every morning.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Debbie and Rose tilted their heads at the exact same time.

 

“What’s your favorite type of cookie, Rose?”

 

It took Rose longer to answer than Debbie expected. “Just chocolate chip, I suppose. I’m a traditionalist.” Lou opened her mouth to continue before Rose piped up, “sometimes with Nutella! If I’m feeling frisky!”

 

“Didn’t think you ever felt frisky,” Debbie mumbled under her breath, which garnered a sharp look from Rose and a quick reply: “asexuality is _different_.” Debbie wasn’t expecting Rose to snap at her quite so easily.

 

“ _So_ , Rose,” Lou continued, after shooting Debbie a glare, “you’ve got chocolate chip cookies waiting for you every single day. Sometimes there’s Nutella. Those days are even better. And you just go about your day, doing everything you usually do, with this small, warm feeling in the pit of your stomach because you just had chocolate chip cookies for breakfast and you know there’ll be chocolate chip cookies waiting for you when you get home and ideally, you get to enjoy those chocolate chip cookies for the rest of your life. And sometimes, you bite into one of the cookies and find out that it’s oatmeal raisin instead of chocolate like you thought.”

 

“Blasphemy.”

 

“Oh, I agree completely.”

 

“I happen to like oatmeal raisin,” Debbie interjected.

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lou continued, “the days you get an oatmeal raisin aren’t as good, but at the end of the day, you still got to have a cookie. And you know that there are many more days with many more cookies ahead of you. So you accept the fact that you got an oatmeal raisin, and you try to move past it, knowing that a less-than-ideal cookie is better than no cookie at all...” Lou trailed off as Rose looked at her with a watery smile and Debbie furrowed her brow.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lou chuckled, “that sort of got away from me at the end. And you’re not a child, the whole cookie analogy isn’t really the best way to explain it.”

 

“Dear, it was beautiful. And speaking of,” Rose hoisted herself up by pushing off the arm of the couch, “I’m feeling a bit peckish. I’m going to grab a quick bite. I’ll be sure to pick you up some Oreos whilst I am gone.”

 

As they watched Rose leave, Debbie slid an arm around Lou’s waist. “Good enough to eat, huh?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You look lovely.”

 

“And _you_ are acting like burnt oatmeal raisin.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Go _apologize to her, Deborah_. Before she buys out half that store’s stock in Chips Ahoy.”

 

“I...yeah, you’re probably right.”

 

Lou smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

Debbie spoke in a hushed tone. “I didn’t mean to be – ”

 

“A bitch?”

 

“I was going to say inconsiderate.”

 

“Well, I hope you learned something.”

 

“Yeah, I did. I think. But now I have questions.”

 

“Go talk to Rose, then.”

 

Debbie threw a jacket around her shoulders before heading out the door, throwing a quick “we should make cookies later!” over her shoulder.

 

Lou shook her head as Debbie exited. It was a good idea, as long as there was white chocolate macadamia nut on the table. Those were her favorite.

 

*

 

Debbie’s fights with Lou were starting to get increasingly domestic.

 

It didn’t _matter_ if Debbie wanted to use rosemary to garnish their baked chicken instead of thyme. It was just a stupid spice. But these were the kind of squabbles they found themselves getting into, usually before they’d slide into bed for the night, Lou with a book and Debbie with a crossword puzzle.

 

She wasn’t sure when they’d become _that couple_. That couple who fell asleep before 11 PM, that couple who had an abundance of picture frames around their house, that couple who had romantic nights in. Maybe they were both finally starting to feel the after-effects of turning an age older than 40.

 

Debbie secretly adored it.

 

Don’t get her wrong, it would be a cold day in hell before Deborah Ocean gave up a life of crime. But, _God,_ did it feel good to be able to walk out of Victoria’s Secret with over two thousand dollars worth of stolen merchandise, wearing a brand new bra and panty set (with the tags still on), with the knowledge that she was coming home to someone who would gladly rip that underwear right off her body.

 

Coming _home._ To _Lou._

It was still a concept she was getting used to, but Debbie was quite certain she wouldn’t have a single problem making any necessary adjustments.

 

Debbie rolled her eyes as Lou continued to ramble on and on about using thyme instead of rosemary before grabbing Lou by the hips and pulling her close. If there was one thing that always shut her up, it was the feeling of Debbie’s lips against her own.

 

Lou sighed into the kiss, and when they finally broke apart, Debbie squeezed her hand before pushing her in the direction of their bedroom to get changed. She was going to have rosemary on this chicken if it killed her.

 

“Shit, it smells _bomb_ in here!”

 

Debbie had been lost in thought for the past fifteen minutes, leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to the soft ticking of the timer while the chicken baked, when Constance’s voice cut through the silence and Debbie jumped about three feet in the air. She was getting rusty.

 

Constance wore a shit-eating grin. “Did I _scare_ you?”

 

“No.”

 

“I totally did.”

 

“You really didn’t.”

 

“Catch me up in this bitch on Halloween makin’ the floorboards creak and shit...”

 

“What are you doing here, Constance?” Debbie’s hands settled on her hips as the skirt of the red dress she was wearing swirled with her movement.

 

“Nothing.” Constance shoved her camera behind her back and Debbie shut her eyes in exasperation.

 

“For the _millionth_ time, Constance, there is _no way_ we’re ever going to let you film us for your YouTube thing.”

 

“’Kay, first of all, that’s a gross exaggeration, you’ve only told me no like, 80 times. Second, where’s other mom? I just wanna get some shots of her closet.”

 

“No way in hell!” came Lou’s voice from upstairs.

 

“Well, fuck you, too!” Constance shouted back, before pulling a chair up to the tiny table Debbie had set up in the middle of the living room, drumming her fingers against the silky white tablecloth. “So, uh...what’s up? These candles are nice.”

 

“You can go now, Constance.” Debbie’s eyes grew wide as Lou came down the stairs, looking as gorgeous as ever. She was wearing a suit Debbie had never seen before, dark purple satin, with small lace daisies adorning the collar of her shirt. She kept a tight grip on the handrail as she kept walking, Louis Vuitton heels clicking against the metal of the staircase.

 

“ _Damn,_ Lou. Someone’s getting laid tonight,” Constance remarked, taking a sip from Lou’s wine glass on the table before grimacing. “Ugh. Merlot? Y’all are nasty.”

 

“We said no, Constance. Why exactly are you still here?” Lou sat down at the table and crossed one leg over the other, her fingers pushing stray strands of hair into a bun on the top of her head.

 

“Is it really so weird that I wanna say hi every once in a while?”

 

“Yes,” replied Debbie and Lou simultaneously.

 

“What’s wrong?” Lou narrowed her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she examined the girl in front of her.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“Nah fam, I’m not.”

 

“You have one of the most obvious tells in the world,” Debbie mumbled as she filled a second glass of wine for Lou. “Lack of eye contact. You’re a pickpocket. Do better.”

 

Lou shushed Debbie before turning her attention back to Constance. “Anything we can help with?”

 

“Nah.”

 

“ _Constance._ ”

 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell the rest of us.”

 

“...okay? Why?”

 

“’Cause they don’t give good advice. You do.”

 

“Glad to know we’re good for something,” Debbie sighed, glancing towards the oven.

 

“So me and my boyfriend broke up, right? And it’s not like – what?”

 

Debbie and Lou were staring at her, mouths agape. Debbie was the one to break the silence. “You’re _straight?_ ”

 

Constance shrugged. “I fuck who I wanna fuck. Anyway. We broke up, and this was two years ago, and there’s been this chick in my DM’s whose like, really tryna hit me up, and she’s hot, but...I dunno, I feel bad.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because.”

 

“...Constance, just _talk._ ”

 

“I cheated on him. Okay? I cheated on him and I still feel really bad about it and I don’t know what to _do._ ”

 

Lou and Debbie exchanged a concerned glance. This was a side of Constance neither of them had seen before.

 

“What are you asking exactly?” Lou leaned forward.

 

“I guess...does it make me a bad person? I mean, I know the cheating does, but...yeah, I just feel bad. Today would’ve been our anniversary, it always bums me out.”

 

Lou was quiet. “Constance, I don’t think we’re the best people to talk to about this.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I can’t give you a good answer.”

 

“...okay.”

 

“You’re not a bad person, that I can tell you. But...I don’t know. It’s a difficult situation to be in.” Lou grabbed her wine glass with a little too much force and took a drink. Constance didn’t seem to notice the darkness that clouded her eyes, but Debbie did.

 

Finally tearing her eyes away from Lou, Debbie cleared her throat. “Look. I’ve never cheated.” Constance snorted and Debbie rolled her eyes. “ _In a relationship_. Never cheated in a relationship. But I’ve done some...truly idiotic things in the past.”

 

Lou watched her out of the corner of her eye.

 

“And I can’t take them back. Neither can you. But all we can do is reflect and move forward with the knowledge that we have to do better. So I think it’s okay to see this girl, if that’s what you want. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

 

Debbie’s hand snuck under the table until it found Lou’s and squeezed.

 

“Did you apologize?”

 

“What?”

 

“To your boyfriend, Constance. Did you apologize? Ever?”

 

“...no.”

 

“You need to. It can...it can go a long way.”

 

The timer on the counter dinged, and Constance and Lou were left sitting with Debbie’s words as Debbie got up to pull the chicken out of the oven. Constance pressed her finger to a stray tear in the corner of her eye. “Dusty in here,” she mumbled. “So. When y’all gettin’ married?”

 

“Okay, time to go.”

 

“Can I be the ring bearer?”

 

“ _Out._ ”

 

“Because I...wait, was this _date night_?”

 

“Constance, get _out of our house_.” Lou ushered her towards the door as Debbie watched with an amused smirk on her face.

 

“Swear to God, you guys are _so old,_ it’s almost like – ”

 

Lou slammed the door in Constance’s face, then double-checked that it was locked. Making her way back to Debbie and the chicken that was now on the table, Lou groaned quietly. “Christ, this smells delicious.”

 

“I know. Rosemary.”

 

*

 

“Alright, Ocean, put the rosé down and get your ass over here.”

 

Debbie glanced at Lou over the top of her glass. She looked damn good in Debbie’s button down, long legs going on for miles. The shirt barely covered her ass. Debbie loved that shirt.

 

Lou pushed her hair behind her shoulders as she turned around and “ _Landslide”_ began to pour out of her sound system. She wiggled her fingers towards Debbie, who finally set her wine glass down on the coffee table and pushed herself off the couch. Silk robe billowing out around her as she moved, fuzzy slippers slapping against the hardwood, Debbie made her way over to Lou and her open arms, pausing momentarily to catch Lou by the waist as she stumbled. They were both more than a little tipsy, Lou more so than Debbie, and they’d laughed and kissed that night like they were in their twenties again.

 

She’d never admit it, but Valentine’s Day had always been Lou’s favorite holiday.

 

This year, Debbie was determined to do something special for her, especially since they were coming up on the three-year anniversary of the Met heist and Debbie already knew what gift she was giving Lou for that particular anniversary.

 

“You are _very_ drunk,” Debbie whispered as Lou dipped her head down and pressed their foreheads together.

 

“And _you_ are _very_ pretty.”

 

“Mm. Watch the roses, you’re barefoot. Nice nail polish. Different for you.”

 

“It’s pink.”

 

“Very pink.”

 

Upon arriving home after tailing a mark, Lou’s mouth had dropped open at what Debbie had done; candles everywhere, roses scattering the floor, a hot bath waiting for her upstairs. She’d peppered Debbie’s face with kisses before scampering to the bathroom, Debbie joining her not long after. Debbie had plied her with alcohol and chocolate, and now Lou Miller was riding what was easily the most pleasant buzz she’d experienced in quite a long time.

 

“Deb?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You smell _soooooooo_ good.”

 

“Alright. Are you leading or shall I?”

 

“Me. I’m not _that_ drunk.”

 

“Oh really? Prove it.”

 

Lou chuckled, and as she moved them across the floor, Debbie swore she’d never been more in love.

 

When Lou tripped over her own feet and her cheeks flushed a deep pink, Debbie smiled. “Okay. Slow down. My turn.”

 

The older she got, the easier it was for Lou’s carefully structured walls to come down, especially when Debbie was looking at her like she was everything she ever wanted, her arms and fingertips gently pressing into the small of her back, occasionally coming up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, proving to Lou time and time again that loving another person couldn’t possibly be a bad thing when it felt like _this._

“Let me just...”

 

“Lou? Are – _oh!_ ”

 

Lou dipped Debbie low, eventually bringing her back up so their faces were inches apart and pulling her in for a sweet kiss.

 

“Wow. You better do that during our first dance, what a perfect opportunity for a picture,” Debbie said as she gave Lou’s shoulder a kiss.

 

“Yeah – wait, _what_?”

 

Debbie couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on Lou’s face. “I’ve said too much. Spin me again.”

 

“You can’t just insinuate a proposal – a _real_ proposal – and leave it at that!” Lou slurred.

 

“Looks like I just did.” Debbie leaned in and gave Lou’s cheek a kiss. “Don’t wanna ruin the surprise, do you, baby?”

 

Lou pouted. “Well, if you make me cry, I’m saying no.”

 

They spent a few moments swaying before Debbie spoke again.

 

“I’ve had a few dreams about it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Our wedding.”

 

“Deb...”

 

“Should’ve happened years ago.”

 

“Hey. Don’t start. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re here now. So please just kiss me and tell me what your dream wedding looks like.”

 

“I just want to see you happy.”

 

“I’m _happy_ , honey. Ridiculously happy. You’re killing yourself thinking too much. Turn it off.”

 

“Hmmmm, make me.”

 

Lou rolled her eyes but leaned in to kiss her once again.

 

It wasn’t until 2:30 that they settled onto the couch, having slightly sobered up, Debbie’s head on Lou’s chest and arms around her waist, Lou gently running her fingers through chocolate waves. They were both too tired to react to the sound of the unlocking loft door.

 

“Ugh, _you two_ are here right now? I would’ve thought you were out having sex on every surface possible.”

 

Amita stood in front of them, sliding her bright red coat off her shoulders and tossing it on the back of a nearby chair.

 

Lou tilted her head. “Were you expecting anyone else? This is our home.”

 

“No, I really just thought you’d be out somewhere. Fucking in Lou’s office, maybe.”

 

Debbie pursed her lips. “Not this year.”

 

“So you guys have just been here all night? Valentine’s Day night? Oh _God_ , did you have sex in Tammy’s bed again?”

 

“We actually haven’t had any sex tonight at all.”

 

Amita laughed, only stopping when she noticed Debbie and Lou’s annoyed expressions. “Oh. OH!” She looked around. “You guys actually did something couple-y! Oh my gosh, I’m so proud!”

 

Lou shrugged a shoulder. “We know what we like. What are you doing here? It’s late. Didn’t you have a date tonight?”

 

Amita grew quiet and slowly sunk down into the chair. “Not much of a date when he doesn’t show up.”

 

“Oh, honey...”

 

Debbie’s eyes widened. “I’ll kill him.”

 

Lou swiped the bottle of rosé from the coffee table before thrusting her arm in Amita’s direction. “You need it more than we do.”

 

“Thanks, guys.” Debbie and Lou were silent as they watched Amita take the biggest, longest swig of alcohol that either of them had ever seen.

 

“Anything we can do?” Lou’s voice was flooded with concern as she gently took the bottle back.

 

Amita hung her head. “Not really. Unless you can take me to some alternate universe where I never met him.”

 

Debbie grimaced. “I know what _that’s_ like.” Lou shot her a look.

 

Amita glanced up, eyes glassier than she would care to admit. “How did you know you’d found the one?”

 

Debbie and Lou remained quiet, so Amita continued. “I mean, you guys are just so obviously meant to be together. Anyone can see it, you’re soulmates. How did you know?”

 

After another very long moment, Lou replied, slowly and quietly, “Patience. And time.”

 

Amita smiled.

 

Lou reached a hand out to tug on the top of Amita’s blouse, which was falling off her shoulder. “You’re looking a little rough, sweetheart. Why don’t I make us something to eat? You’ll feel better.”

 

“Lou, it’s so late, you don’t have to do that.”

 

“We’re all awake. And I don’t mind.” Before Amita could get another word in edgewise, Lou stood and tugged at her shirt, pulling it down to cover more of her ass. “Personally, I could really go for some baked mac and cheese.”

 

Both Amita and Debbie let out an involuntary moan. “With the little breadcrumb thing on top?”

 

“Of course, what, do you think I’m a heathen?” With that, Lou headed towards her kitchen.

 

Amita leaned back into her seat before reaching down and picking up one of the roses from its spot on the floor. She studied its petals. “I hate this stupid holiday.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Lou really went all-out this year, though. You’re a lucky woman, Deb.”

 

Debbie blinked. “She didn’t plan this.”

 

“Oh! I just figured – ”

 

“That I’m not the type for big romantic gestures?”

 

“Well...usually you’re not, unless there’s stealing involved. Your last big romantic gesture involved a 150-million-dollar necklace,” Amita shrugged.

 

“And don’t you forget it,” Debbie chuckled. “No, she deserved something nice this year. Relaxing, I mean. She’s been losing her mind trying to make sure things are going well at Nine’s place now that they’re partnering. She deserves to feel like she can take a break.”

 

Amita beamed from ear to ear. “You’re so in love with her.”

 

Debbie returned the smile. “Yeah. I am.”

 

They glanced over their shoulders to peek at Lou. She had settled onto the edge of the counter, legs dangling, her back to Amita and Debbie, spine quite pronounced through the thin fabric of the shirt as she hunched over. Her hair was falling in her face. Looking at her, Debbie realized that if every single Valentine’s Day and night would be spent like this for the rest of her life, everything they had been through would have been worth it. Amita watched the wheels in her head turn with a sly smile.

 

“Hey. Earth to Deb.”

 

Amita lowered her voice an octave. “Let me know when you want to see that ring. I finished it a couple days ago.”

 

Debbie relaxed into the couch cushions. “Soon. Really soon.”

 

*

 

“How do you fuck a woman?”

 

Daphne Kluger was standing over their couch, sunglasses perched on the very edge of her nose, arms folded across her chest.

 

Lou lifted the sleep mask from her eyes as Debbie stirred under the blankets on the other end of the couch.

 

“Wait, were you _napping_? It’s 10 in the fucking morning!”

 

“Nice to see you too, Daph,” Debbie groaned, shifting upwards to a sitting position. “What can we do for you?”

 

“You heard my question.”

 

“Oh, that. I was trying to ignore it.”

 

Daphne shifted her attention to the other woman on the couch. “Lou. You’re clearly an expert. How do you fuck a woman?”

 

“Can I get a minute to wake up?”

 

“Oh my God! You two are the _absolute worst_.”

 

“ _Us?_ You’re the one who just stormed into our loft!”

 

Daphne placed her hand on her heart. “Oh, _I’m_ sorry, do we not have keys for a reason?”

 

Debbie sighed and stood up from the couch. “I’m making tea.”

 

Lou leaned forward as Daphne sat down in Constance’s favorite chair and kicked off her heels. “Alright, princess. What’s going on?”

 

“For the third _fucking_ time, how does a woman like you or me or Debbie _fuck another woman_?”

 

Lou quirked an eyebrow. “You want a demonstration or...?”

 

Daphne waved the suggestion off. “No. You just got married, I don’t wanna ruin that for you now.”

 

“ _Now?_ You’d consider ruining it _later?_ ” Debbie piped up from the kitchen.

 

“What’s this about, Daphne?” Lou draped one arm across the back of the couch and stretched to kiss Debbie’s cheek as she came back over, balancing three mugs and a variety of tea bags. “New movie?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“Mmmmmkay, what’s her name?”

 

“...Tina.”

 

“She sounds thrilling.”

 

“Like ‘ _Debbie’_ is any better?”

 

“Oh, you’re a _bitch_ , you know that?”

 

Lou squeezed Debbie’s arm until Debbie sat back in a huff.

 

“Look. She’s a PA on my newest film and while I’m not usually one to mingle with the crew, she’s hot and she’s funny and she’s made it clear that she’s interested. So I want to make my intentions very, _very_ clear in return.”

 

“So what’s the problem? You seem to have a specific goal in mind, and you’re not an idiot. Use those,” Lou pointed her index finger towards Daphne’s breasts. “They’re looking nice as of late.”

 

“Oh, thank you! Just got them done,” Daphne grinned. “But really. I need your help.”

 

“Why us?”

 

“I don’t have as many lesbians at my disposal as you may think.”

 

“We’re truly shocked.”

 

Daphne ignored Debbie’s jab. “And you just got back from your honeymoon, and I _know_ you were having tons of great sex in Bali. You sent way too many pictures to the group chat.”

 

“Oh, _did we?_ ” Debbie reached for her phone. “I’m in the mood for reminiscing.”

 

“Calm yourself. Daphne, what do _you_ like in bed? That’s always a good place to start.”

 

Daphne blushed as her eyes darted to her hands in her lap. “Oh. Um. Well. That’s...a good question.”

 

Lou furrowed her brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had an orgasm before.”

 

“No! No, I have, I just...I don’t know, I haven’t had a lot of good sex. I haven’t had a lot of sex, period.”

 

Debbie looked doubtful. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

 

Daphne bit her lip. “I...need it to mean something.”

 

Lou nodded. “Fair enough.”

 

“What’s your body count?”

 

“Deb!”

 

“No, it’s okay.” Daphne cleared her throat. “Six. Yours?”

 

“ _Wow._ And a lady a never tells,” Debbie smirked, pulling her legs underneath the blanket.

 

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Not good enough.”

 

“Fine. Eleven. Maybe twelve.”

 

Daphne nodded towards Lou. “What about you?”

 

“Four.”

 

Daphne’s jaw dropped. “You’re _SHITTING ME.”_

“Nope. Quality over quantity.” Lou clinked their mugs together. “Cheers.”

 

Daphne sipped her tea, a tiny smile on her face, clearly grateful for the unexpected support from the unlikeliest of places, before pulling a tiny notebook out of her purse. “Anyway. My question.”

 

“Daphne, neither of us are teaching you how to eat pussy. It’s too early.”

 

“Well...hold on a second...” Lou set her mug down on the coffee table.

 

“ _Lou,_ I swear to God...”

 

“The thing you have to focus on the most is her pleasure. Make sure she’s comfortable and consenting and just do what feels right. And if you freak out, _ask._ If she likes you as much as you claim she does, she’ll let you know what she wants and where she wants you. What feels good.”

 

Debbie cleared her throat but didn’t say anything.

 

“Be open to varying your technique and pay attention to her reactions. Vaginas are like snowflakes. It’s corny but true. Different women like different things. Kiss her clit. Use your nose. Make noise. Mix it up.”

 

Debbie coughed.

 

“Something the matter?” Daphne stopped taking notes and stared at Debbie intently.

 

“Nope. Continue.”

 

“Not to get too _graphic_ ,” Lou smirked, “but do you want to know what makes me come?”

 

Daphne swallowed hard. “Uh...yes. Yes, I do.”

 

“If we’re being completely candid, what makes me come is two fingers, and her lips wrapped around my clit.”

 

Daphne’s eyes were so wide, Lou swore they were going to bug out completely.

 

“Wanna know what makes Deb come?”

 

Daphne nodded furiously.

 

“What I’ve been doing for the past three and a half minutes.”

 

Daphne blinked.

 

She’d completely missed the way Lou casually draped the blanket over both of their laps.

 

How Debbie had scooted closer and closer the deeper they got into the conversation.

 

How Lou’s left hand had disappeared under the blanket.

 

And how Debbie had been very, _very_ quiet up until this very second when she couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped her, even though she wore her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

“Shit...are you...”

 

Lou’s eyes gleamed.

 

“Should I...I think I’m gonna just go.”

 

“Good plan.”

 

“Oh for _fuck’s sake_!” Daphne yelped. In the forty seconds it had taken her to squeeze her shoes back onto her feet, Debbie and Lou had shed a solid 75% of their clothing and now Daphne was faced with the sight of Deborah Ocean and her bare ass grinding down onto her wife’s thigh as her lips darted over her neck, Lou tangling her fingers in Debbie’s hair.

 

Daphne scurried across the floor of the loft as fast as her heels would carry her, closing the door behind her just after she heard Lou mutter, “ _Fuck_ , you’re _soaking_.”

 

With a quick shake of her head and toss of her hair, Daphne hurried into her waiting car.

 

At least she got some good notes.

 

*

 

This place wasn’t Nine’s style at all.

 

Too fancy, too stuffy. She didn’t even really like Italian that much, but Lou had insisted on taking them out, and no one said no to Mama Lou, especially not Michelle.

 

Lou had reminded them on multiple occasions, usually when she was stoned, that she was the whole reason Nine and Michelle were together in the first place.

 

“You know, you remind me of Deb and I when we were your age,” Lou would say, sprawled out on the couch. “All carefree and happy and shit.”

 

“Nah,” came Nine’s reply as she handed Lou the blunt. “We’re way cooler than y’all ever were.”

 

Lou would gasp in faux annoyance, but she couldn’t hide the smirk on her face. Nine was right, they were an effortlessly cool couple.

 

Ever since Nine had tailed Lou’s bike that one fateful Tuesday and found out she volunteered at a domestic violence shelter every week, she’d made it a habit to go in and volunteer herself at least once a month, ever since Lou had more or less introduced her to Michelle.

 

“Purple hair, 9:00. Michelle. Thinks you’re cute. This is her number.”

 

The rest was history.

 

That was about four years ago. Debbie and Lou had been married for well over a year now, and Nine and Michelle were still going strong. They’d moved in together right around the time Lou and Deb left for their extended stay in Hawaii, returning months later with tan limbs and hundred-watt smiles, staring down at Nine and enthusiastically asking if she needed any kitchen appliances. Nine had shaken her head no. Old people are weird.

 

Nine would never admit it to anyone on Debbie’s crew, but she was head over heels in love. Even now, watching Michelle push her hair behind her ears and tap her fingers on the edge of the table, Nine just wanted to kiss her and tell her how beautiful she was.

 

She was _sappy_ now. She hated it.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah...” Michelle bit her lip.

 

“Baby?”

 

“I’ve never met Debbie before.”

 

“Really? Thought you saw her at the house.”

 

“Nope. We always seem to miss each other.”

 

Nine patted her thigh. “Just be cool.”

 

“I _can’t_! I’m not the cool one in this relationship, that’s you!”

 

Nine laughed. “Okay, babe, relax. Deb’s chill. Well...she’s not, but she’ll like you.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Everyone likes you.”

 

Michelle bit back a smile, right as Debbie and Lou made their grand entrance.

 

“Sorry! Sorry, God, you know how much I _hate_ being late,” Debbie said, giving Nine a quick squeeze and Lou, who rolled her eyes in response, an exasperated look. “But _someone’s_ shoes didn’t match the rest of her outfit.”

 

“It’s a good reason to be late.” Lou winked at Michelle before pulling her into a hug. “Hey, babydoll.”

 

“Hey! So we took the liberty of ordering some garlic bread for the table.”

 

“ _God_ , you know me too well.” Lou slid into the booth and handed her jacket to Debbie, who was watching the exchange in front of her amusedly.

 

When Michelle sat back down, she cupped her chin in her hands and blinked at Debbie. “So. You’re the infamous Deborah Ocean.”

 

“Deborah _Marie_ Ocean,” Lou interjected.

 

“Really? Marie?” Nine sneered.

 

“Your name is _Leslie._ ”

 

“So what’s that like?” Michelle continued.

 

“What’s what like?”

 

“Being like...associated with...crime...”

 

Nine smacked Michelle’s arm. “Babe!”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m just super curious, I’ve never met a criminal before!”

 

Debbie and Lou gave bemused looks but kept their mouths shut, and Nine felt her cheeks flush.

 

“...well, first of all, keep your voice down. Second, I prefer _reformed_ criminal. Third, what do you want me to say? I made a mistake, and I paid the price for it. There’s not much to it.” Debbie sipped her water.

 

“I’m sorry, that was really rude of me, wasn’t it? I get nervous around people I don’t know and then I say things I regret and _then_ I talk too much and it’s a lot for people...”

 

Debbie smiled. “It’s fine.”

 

Nine cleared her throat. “So...yeah...this is Debbie...and you already know Lou...so...yeah.”

 

“Nice to meet you!” Michelle chirped, very ready to move past her awkward introduction.

 

The waiter passed by their table and asked if Debbie and Lou needed anything to drink.

 

“Malbec, please,” Debbie said as she handed him her menu.

 

“Nothing for me, thanks.”

 

After everyone’s order was taken, Nine nodded her head across the table at Lou. “Vodka queen ain’t drinkin’?”

 

Lou chuckled. “No, not tonight.”

 

“You feelin’ okay?”

 

Lou turned her attention to Michelle. “She always talk this much around you?”

 

“No, not usually.”

 

“ _Hey!_ ”

 

“Just being honest, baby,” Michelle giggled, leaning in to give Nine-Ball’s cheek a kiss.

 

As the evening dragged on, Nine found herself completely shocked by how great of a time she was having. Maybe it was the excess of wine, but Debbie was laughing a lot more than she ever did around anyone but Lou, and Michelle was right there with her. Nine came to the sudden realization that more than anything, she was grateful for the little found family that Debbie had formed with Lou and the rest of the girls. It was nice to have someone besides Veronica to rant to, or cry on, or just shoot the shit with.

 

And if all went well, Michelle would be joining that found family sooner rather than later.

 

Lou’s buzzing phone sent vibrations through the table. She flipped it over and glanced at the screen, then at Debbie, holding the phone out so she could see the contact name. They shared yet another not-so-covert glance and Lou stood up, adjusting her blazer.

 

“Gotta take this. I’ll be back in a few.”

 

Watching her leave the restaurant, Nine-Ball folded her arms across her chest when she saw the tiny smile playing over Debbie’s lips. “What are y’all up to?”

 

“Us? Nothing.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Not nice to swear around your girlfriend, Leslie.”

 

“Nah, I’m used to it. I actually gotta get up, too. Tiny bladder and stuff.” Michelle hurried towards the bathroom, and Debbie shook her head.

 

“She’s adorable.”

 

“ _Hey._ Shut up.”

 

“I mean it! Good fit for you. You’re both awkward but in slightly different ways. It’s kind of cute. You mesh well.”

 

“...thanks. And, hey, I’m sorry ‘bout what she asked you before, that wasn’t cool.”

 

“No, it’s fine. I’m only surprised that she’s so _just_ and _lawful_ considering that she’s practically married to one of the best hackers on the East Coast.”

 

Nine chose her words carefully. “She knows what I do, she just don’t know the extent of our...” Nine wiggled a finger between her and Debbie, “...friendship.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Nine picked at her shrimp scampi.

 

“Four years, huh? That’s pretty big.”

 

“You sound like my mom. And my dad. And V.”

 

“You putting a ring on it anytime soon?”

 

When Nine didn’t respond, Debbie set her wine glass to the side. “Hey. I was joking. It was a Beyoncé reference, thought you’d get a kick out of that.”

 

“No, that’s...uh...that’s actually what I wanna talk to y’all about.”

 

Debbie’s eyes widened. “Oh! Okay.”

 

“What’d I miss?” As Lou sat back down, Debbie tilted her head and Lou waved her off. “Later.”

 

“Okay, _what_ is going on with y’all?”

 

“You’re not allowed to ask _us_ questions when you’re trying to _propose_!”

 

Lou gasped. “Tonight?”

 

“NO, shit, no, not tonight. It’s just...it’s a thing that’s gonna happen.” Nine kept her eyes glued to the food in front of her. Her words came out in a mumble but Debbie and Lou could hear her clear as day. “She means a lot to me and I want to show her just how special she is. I wanna spend the rest of my life with her.”

 

“That is...sickeningly sweet.”

 

Lou wiped away a fake tear. “They grow up so fast.”

 

“Y’all _suck._ I wanted help.”

 

“And what, pray tell, would we be helping you with, Leslie?”

 

“Well, _Deborah_ , you had a pretty fuckin’ good proposal, didn’t you?”

 

Debbie and Lou grinned at the memory. Debbie _had_ done pretty damn good. As the years went by, the crew had decided that the anniversary of the Toussaint heist deserved its own special celebration. Daphne had oh so generously offered her beach house in Hawaii, and ever since then, it had become tradition that everyone took the first full week of May off and flew down to enjoy the sun and sand. While everyone did their own thing for the most part, each night was spent in the company of their friends, around a bonfire in the middle of the beach. Rose would make her favorite margaritas (they were so good, Lou joked about hiring her as a part-time bartender) and Constance would tell horrible jokes and all in all, it was a perfect way to spend a week.

 

On the last night of their third Hawaii trip, the girls had put some music on, something fun and stupid, and everyone was dancing around the fire, pulling each other up and spinning and flailing. It was the most carefree Lou had felt in a while without being on a motorcycle. She wished she remembered what song was playing, but that wasn’t important, because all of a sudden, Debbie was in front of her, bending down to kiss her, then sinking further into the sand on one knee, presenting her with a simple, gorgeous diamond, expertly crafted by Amita. Tammy had gotten it all on video.

 

It was romantic and memorable and such a long time coming that Lou didn’t think she would actually cry when the moment arrived.

 

She cried like a baby.

 

Now, in the restaurant, Lou glanced down at her ring, then back at Nine-Ball.

 

“Well, I think the first thing you have to consider is that she doesn’t know we’re _criminals._ ”

 

Nine shrugged. “Tammy’s husband doesn’t know either.”

 

“That’s because Tammy’s husband is an _idiot_.” Debbie took another sip of wine.

 

“She’s gonna stay out of it.” Nine was adamant as she folded her hands on the table. “I promise.”

 

Lou and Debbie looked uncertain, but Lou gave her a nod. “Okay. Your decision.”

 

“As for the proposal,” Debbie said as she dabbed her lips with the cloth napkin, “you know what’s best.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“Yes, you do. She seems like a very private person, so I doubt she’d want you to propose in the middle of an Applebee’s somewhere.”

 

“Applebee’s?”

 

“I’ve seen it happen. They’re probably divorced by now.”

 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lou sighed, “she’s right. Only reason we got engaged in Hawaii is because you guys were the only ones to witness it. If there’d been more people, I might have said no.”

 

“Damn, Lou...”

 

Lou shrugged. “It is what it is.”

 

Nine couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

 

“She loves you, Leslie. Whatever you decide to do, it’s going to be what’s right, because it’s going to come from the heart. It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. The Hawaii proposal was a last- minute decision, actually. You don’t want to know how many times I considered just proposing to her in bed one night.”

 

“ _Gross._ ”

 

“Oh, for God’s – not during _sex!_ Just...you know, just saying the words. Asking. You’re tired, you’re cozy, it’s perfect.”

 

“Married life has really changed her, if you haven’t noticed,” Lou deadpanned.

 

“Shut up.” Debbie rolled her eyes. “The point is, Michelle seems great. You’re great. You’re great _together._ I can guarantee that you don’t have to worry.”

 

“And if she says no, you can just say you were joking and then never mention it again.”

 

“ _Lou!_ ”

 

“I’m _sorry_ , this isn’t exactly a topic I’m well-versed in!”

 

“Damn, I thought y’all would be good at this.”

 

“It’s not like I’m not _trying_ , I’m just...distracted...” Lou bit her lip. Debbie opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Michelle hurried back to the table.

 

“Sorry about that, I really...what’s going on?”

 

The three women in front of her were all staring, strange little smiles on their lips.

 

Lou grabbed Debbie’s wrist and pulled her out of the booth. “We really should be heading out. Long day tomorrow, and Deborah needs her beauty rest.”

 

“Aren’t we splitting the check?” Michelle glanced at Nine in confusion.

 

Debbie and Lou were halfway to the door before Debbie tossed a quick “great meeting you!” over her shoulder.

 

“Yeah, they don’t really do that.”

 

“Hey,” Michelle said softly, placing her hand on Nine’s back. “You okay? You look weird. Was it something I said earlier?”

 

“No! No, baby, you’re great. You’re great.”

 

“...okay.” Michelle smiled. “So. Are we getting dessert?”

 

“I dunno,” Nine replied with a coy grin on her face. “You pay for all of this and you can get all the dessert you want.”

 

Michelle snorted. “Is this a proposal?”

 

“Nah. Don’t have a diamond yet.”

 

*

 

If this was going to be a proposition for another threesome, Tammy swore to God she was turning this car around and going right back to the suburbs, thank you _very_ much.

 

She’d been going to and from Lou’s loft for years now. Tammy had become quite good at navigating the streets of Brooklyn in a mini-van. The loft had become her sanctuary of sorts, a little home away from home where she could rant and drink and actually enjoy the company of the two women she was proud to call her best friends.

 

Lou and Debbie were...well, they were Lou and Debbie. They were formidable. If anyone tried to mess with them, they’d get messed with right back.

 

But Tammy knew that she was the only person in the world, besides each other, who had seen them at their worst. She’d taken care of them after the nastiest of hangovers, held Debbie as she sobbed on the first anniversary of Danny’s death, and picked up Lou from an inpatient facility after a suicide attempt shortly after Debbie’s sentence began.

 

She’d never say it out loud, but sometimes Tammy wondered if she was the glue that kept those two from tearing each other apart from the inside out.

 

Debbie and Lou were ride or die. And that scared the hell out of Tammy.

 

They seemed to be in a really good place right now, though. Married for almost a year and a half, working small jobs that had nice payoffs, happy, happy, happy.

 

But knocking on the door of the loft at 11 in the morning, Tammy couldn’t keep her hand from shaking. Why was she so _nervous?_

“Hey, Tam,” Lou ushered her in with a smile. “Can I take your coat?”

 

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” In the kitchen, Debbie was sprinkling some powdered sugar over a plate of French toast. She still hadn’t changed out of her nightgown and robe, but judging by her straightened hair and smoky eyes, she and Lou had been awake for at least a few hours.

 

Lou threw her legs over the side of the couch and pushed a pillow under the small of her back as Tammy sat down across from her. Setting her purse on the edge of the coffee table, she blinked in confusion as Debbie brought over two plates.

 

“Oh, no, really, it’s okay – “

 

“Tammy, eat. You had a long drive.”

 

“Two hours isn’t that long. And I ate before I left.”

 

“What, a protein bar? That green smoothie crap? No. Eat.”

 

Setting one plate in front of Tammy and handing the other to Lou, Debbie went back to the kitchen to grab one more plate, as well as her steaming mug of coffee, before sitting next to Tammy.

 

“This is...really good, Deb.”

 

“You sound surprised.”

 

“That’s because I am.”

 

“That’s not very nice, Tim-Tam.”

 

“Since when have you figured out how to cook?”

 

Debbie slid her robe off and tossed it to Lou, who draped it over the back of the couch. “It seems that I’ve found myself with quite a bit of free time lately.”

 

“You don’t like free time.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“So you learned to cook?”

 

“I did.”

 

“For the most part,” Lou added. Debbie flipped her off.

 

Tammy nodded. “Fair enough.”

 

They ate in silence for a while, and Tammy watched. She took it all in, the way that Lou kept her eyes locked on a spot on the ceiling, how Debbie ran her fingers through her hair. Something was definitely up.

 

“You want anything else? I feel like it’s early enough for mimosas, and we have orange juice, and we have champagne, so I could probably figure it out.”

 

“It’s okay, Deb. Why am I here?”

 

Debbie and Lou glanced at each other. Tammy rolled her eyes.

 

“I saw that.”

 

“...good for you?”

 

“You don’t have to keep looking at each other like that, you _could_ just tell me what’s going on, you know.”

 

“Could we now?” Lou set her empty plate next to Tammy’s on the coffee table.

 

“Come _on_ , guys. You’ve been acting strange for weeks.”

 

Debbie cleared her throat before picking up the plates and heading back to the kitchen.

 

“Okay,” Tammy slid her purse back onto her arm. “If no one’s talking, I’m leaving.”

 

“We need your advice.”

 

Tammy blinked at Lou, who had leaned forward, and then shifted her gaze to Debbie, who had frozen in place at the sink.

 

Tammy sat back once more. “This is a first.”

 

“I know.”

 

“What can I help you with?”

 

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Tim-Tam,” Debbie scoffed, arms folded across her chest as she made her way to Lou’s side on the couch. “It’s just a question or two.”

 

“What would those questions be?”

 

“You have kids, right?”

 

“...Deb, you’ve met my children maybe a hundred times. Yes. I have kids.”

 

“What’s that like?”

 

Lou and Debbie were staring at Tammy as they waited for her reply so intently that any other woman would have been more than a little uncomfortable, or aroused, or both.

 

(Okay, so maybe Tammy was sweating bullets. Whatever.)

 

“Um. Well...it’s great, sometimes. And sometimes it’s awful. There are days that I don’t feel like I have an identity besides being their mom, but then I take them to school and they tell me they love me and it feels like I’d spent my entire life waiting for that exact moment. So it’s a gamble, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

“You’ve always liked gambling.”

 

“Why do you ask?” Tammy’s eyes darted back and forth between Lou and Debbie as silence filled the air. Lou’s hand moved across the couch to rest on Debbie’s knee, and when Debbie raised her head, she and Tammy locked eyes.

 

That was all it took.

 

“Oh. _Oh._ Ohhhhhhhhh my God. Okay. Wow. When...how...are...okay, hold on a second.”

 

“Breathe, Tim-Tam.”

 

“Yeah. Okay. So.” Tammy leaned forward in her chair. “So you two...are having a baby?”

 

Lou couldn’t help the tiny grin that appeared on her face. “We’re thinking about it.”

 

Tammy pursed her lips. “Interesting.”

 

“What?”

 

“No, I’m just reveling in this.”

 

“Oh, stop.”

 

“Deborah Ocean and Louann Miller, esteemed criminals, even more esteemed lesbians, need my _advice_.”

 

“Tammy.”

 

“I should take a picture to commemorate this momentous occasion.”

 

“Tam, we’re scared.”

 

That shut Tammy up real quick.

 

Debbie stared at Lou. “I’m not _scared._ I don’t get scared.”

 

Lou rolled her eyes. “We’re both scared.”

 

Tammy offered up a sympathetic smile. “That’s understandable. It’s a scary thing. It’s different for everyone, so take anything I say with a grain of salt, but I can try to help as much as possible! Can I ask you guys a few questions first?”

 

Lou and Debbie nodded. This was the quietest Tammy had seen either of them in years.

 

“Okay. Who’s gonna actually have the baby?”

 

“Well...” Debbie started, “that’s a whole other issue.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, you see, I don’t like pregnant people,” came Debbie’s pointed reply.

 

“Deborah.”

 

“What? I don’t! Becoming irrationally fat for close to a year and then tearing one’s vagina apart is not my idea of a good time!”

 

“Okay. What about you?” Tammy raised an eyebrow at Lou.

 

“Can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Doctors said I have...what was their exact wording, Deb? Oh yeah,” Lou didn’t even wait for Debbie to respond. “An inordinate amount of scar tissue on my cervix. Found that out during dinner with Nine and Michelle. Cried the whole rest of the night.”

 

“Lou...”

 

“Makes the odds of me carrying a baby to term slim to none. Apparently, they’d only ever seen damage that extensive in their trauma patients. Isn’t that ironic?”

 

Debbie settled her hand on the small of Lou’s back.

 

Tammy shook her head. She knew about the abuse Lou had suffered as a teenager, knew about the beatings and the repeated rapes. Lou only talked about it when she was drunk.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“Yeah, Tam. Me too. So I guess the answer to your question is neither of us. But we’ve been looking at adoption agencies.”

 

Tammy looked between the two women in front of her once more. “How long has this been in the works?”

 

“Few months.”

 

“You know it can take years to actually be picked?”

 

They nodded.

 

Tammy couldn’t hide the awe in her voice. “You guys are really serious about this.”

 

“We are.” Debbie got up to refill her mug.

 

“I guess what we’re concerned about is...well, how to actually be parents. Neither of us grew up with the best examples,” Lou remarked.

 

“You’re kidding, right? Guys. You’ve been parenting for _years_ , whether it be my kids or Constance.”

 

That elicited a laugh from Lou, and yet another eye roll from Debbie. “Be serious, Tam.”

 

“I am! Deb, Keri _only_ listens to _you_ when it comes to storytime. And Lou, Derek doesn’t even allow me to give him piggybacks anymore. You’re kind of taking over my job.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“No, it’s _great._ Guys, you’re going to be _incredible_ moms. And I’ll be honest, you _do_ have reason to be scared.”

 

“Nice.”

 

“Let me finish. I don’t know much else about the adoption process, but something I wish my mom had told me when I had my kids is that there isn’t an instruction manual.”

 

“I like instructions when they’re my own. I like having plans.”

 

“Yeah, Deb, I know you do. No one tells you that you’re making up pretty much everything as you go. And that’s _okay_. It’s completely normal to feel the way that you’re feeling. You’re about to be responsible for a tiny person for at least eighteen years. That’s scary! But you know what? All you have to do is love them. That’s literally it. That’s the job. Just love ‘em. No one really knows what they’re doing.”

 

“Even Super Mom?”

 

Tammy giggled. “Yeah, even Super Mom. Super Mom might need to hang up her cape soon. I think she’s about to get a run for her money. Mark that down as something I never thought I’d ever say.” Tammy took a second to think. “One more question. What brought all this on? Never thought this was anything close to what you wanted for your life. Either of your lives.”

 

“Well...we’re getting older, Tim-Tam.”

 

“I’m quite aware, Deb.”

 

“Someone very wise once told me that more than one thing can make you happy.”

 

Tammy grinned. “Very wise indeed.”

 

*

 

**_3 YEARS LATER_ **

****

“It’s back! Hurry up!”

 

Constance hopped over the back of the couch and landed next to Rose, who jumped, causing the popcorn bowl on her lap to practically overturn.

 

“Be careful, dear. Lou will slaughter us all if her carpet is peppered with any more mysterious stains.”

 

“Maybe not so mysterious,” Constance muttered, as her eyes flickered back and forth between Nine and Michelle, whose tongues were down each others’ throats, year-old wedding bands glistening in the evening glow, and Amita and her boyfriend of four months, Charlie, who were _also_ too busy making out to notice anyone else in the living room. “Some of us are trying to eat, you know!”

 

Amita huffed. “Just because _you’re_ single doesn’t mean you have to take it out on the rest of us.”

 

“Hey! Single Pringles are the best. Right, Rose?”

 

“Right.” Rose returned Constance’s awkward invitation for a fist bump.

 

Michelle detached herself from Nine’s lap and laid her head on her shoulder. “How you holding up, Charlie? Lot of estrogen in here.”

 

“Doing okay for now, but thanks for your concern,” laughed Charlie. “Everyone seems really nice!”

 

“Yeah, Amita, you picked a great day to bring him by for the first time,” Nine remarked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

 

“Everyone hush! This is her category!” Tammy stared intently at the flat-screen.

 

“Lou! You’re gonna miss it!”

 

“I can hear from the kitchen!” came Lou’s muffled reply as she searched through a cabinet.

 

Chadwick Boseman’s voice filled the living room. “And the Oscar goes to...”

 

Constance started a drum roll on her lap.

 

“...Daphne Kluger!”

 

All the women in the living room (and the lone man) reacted with squeals as Daphne, who looked stunning in a Rose Weil Original, started to cry and make her way towards the podium. Back in the loft, the laughter quickly turned to sounds of discomfort as a high-pitched cry came from an upstairs bedroom. Lou groaned. “Thanks, guys.”

 

Tammy smirked. “Sorry, mama.”

 

“Be down in a bit.”

 

Lou made her way up the stairs, just barely hearing Daphne thank her beautiful girlfriend of three years, Tina, and her “seven best friends in the entire world”. By the time Lou walked into Lizzie’s bedroom, Debbie was already there, clad in a fuzzy pink robe and bunny slippers, hair sopping wet, kneeling next to the crib, one finger trapped inside a tight little fist. Lizzie didn’t make a sound.

 

“Jesus.” Lou knelt down next to her wife.

 

“What?”

 

“What do I keep telling you? She likes you more than me.”

 

“Shhhh. That’s a lie and you know it.”

 

“Deb, she could be screaming bloody murder and the second she sees your face, she calms down. She’s mama’s girl.”

 

“Oh please. You’re the only one she talks to. I’d say that’s a point for mommy.”

 

“Please don’t call me mommy.”

 

“We need a differentiation, Lou.”

 

“Yeah, I _know_ , but I’m pretty sure Constance started that, thinking that it was a sex thing.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I mean...it _could_ be a sex thing, if – ”

 

“Don’t even start.”

 

Lizzie kicked a leg and relinquished her hold on Debbie’s finger. She let out a gurgle that almost sounded like a laugh. Lou smiled. “Right, bug? Tell her, tell mama ‘don’t even think about it’.” Lou reached into the crib and pulled Lizzie up and into her arms, bouncing her slightly. Lizzie buried her face in Lou’s neck, and Lou reached a hand down to tap Debbie’s shoulder. “I’ve got her. Go dry your hair.”

 

“Don’t let her stay up for too long.”

 

“I know how to take care of our six-month-old, Deborah.”

 

“I don’t doubt it, baby.” Debbie rose to her feet. “I’m gonna get some sleep before she’s up again. You should do the same.” Giving Lou a quick kiss on the cheek, Debbie spent a long while looking at Lizzie before doing the same to her. “God, I hope we don’t mess you up,” Debbie sighed, running her finger along the length of Lizzie’s arm.

 

“We won’t.”

 

“You can’t guarantee that.”

 

“Strangely enough, I have faith in us.”

 

That was good enough for Debbie, who tossed her wet hair over one shoulder and grabbed Lizzie’s soft yellow blanket from the crib, draping it over Lou’s shoulder. “She’s gonna be a great little criminal one day.”

 

“Deb.”

 

“I know. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

 

“She does have the Ocean blood coursing through her.”

 

“...no, she doesn’t? Did you forget that she’s adopted?”

 

“Look, all I’m saying is that she looks just like you did when you were her age, judging by those pictures Danny showed me when we first met.”

 

“Still pissed at him for that.”

 

“Mm. It just wouldn’t surprise me if, somehow, we ended up with a real, live Ocean, in the flesh.”

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“You have no sense of imagination.”

 

“And _you_ ” _,_ Debbie pretended to nibble Lizzie’s arm as she squealed, “are too damn precious. Okay. I’m exhausted. Tell the girls I said goodnight. Love you.”

 

“Will do. Love you too.”

 

Lizzie cooed and waved her arm at Debbie as she left the room. Lou tickled her tummy, and Lizzie swiveled her head around to look at her with the most beautiful brown eyes Lou had ever seen (in Lou’s opinion, they were the prettiest in the world, right up there with Debbie’s).

 

“Alright, Miss Elizabeth. Looks like it’s just you and me.”

 

Lizzie stuck her tongue out at her mom and giggled when Lou stuck her own tongue out in return.

 

Settling into the rocking chair by the window, Lou held Lizzie close to her, rocking and rubbing her back as she squirmed. After twenty minutes or so, Lizzie settled, and Lou placed a kiss on the top of her head.

 

“I’m gonna tell you a secret. And you can’t tell mama, or Aunt Tammy, because they’ll both laugh.”

 

Lou turned Lizzie to face her, and Lizzie looked at her with very tired eyes.

 

“I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

 

Lizzie responded by promptly falling asleep.

 

Laying her back down in her crib, Lou gave Lizzie’s tiny forehead one more kiss and whispered to her, “goodnight, bug. Mamas love you so much” before slipping out of her room.

 

Standing at the top of the staircase, Lou watched the women downstairs tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths and drinking their wine. She could see Debbie out of the corner of her eye, brushing out her hair in their bedroom.

 

This was not the life Lou thought she would lead, not by any means.

 

But it was good, she thought to herself.

 

It was good.

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to asexualizing, my non-problematic fave in pretty much every aspect, for bearing with me and helping me plan out several of the storylines in this fic sjdkhfasf
> 
> find me on tumblr: smashingmagicklovely
> 
> again, please comment and tell me what you'd like to see next! if you comment, i'll send you loads and loads of hugs <3


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